


When We Were Younger

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Canon Compliant, Coffee Shops, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, M/M, POV Alec, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 12:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Alec has been raised to scorn mundanes but secretly he thinks that they may just have the better deal. They go along their own way, oblivious to the darkness that lurks around every corner and they seem happy in their blissful ignorance.Sometimes Alec thinks that he would sell his soul for a little bit of that wondering contentedness.He slips into his favorite daydream, the one he only allows himself when he’s sick or falling asleep, or sometimes when the loneliness spreading through his chest threatens to suffocate him.Or, Alec used to dream about meeting someone.





	When We Were Younger

**Author's Note:**

> Song: When We Were Younger by You Me At Six

He sits in the coffee shop, alone and lonely. He’s not even wearing his glamour rune but he’s still invisible in the cozy warmth of the shop.

He’s in the corner, feet tucked under him as he reads a book close to the fireplace. It’s a rare afternoon away from the controlled chaos of the Institute and he soaks in this feeling.

Sure, he’s lonely. But he’s free. As the hush of patrons talking washes over him and the smell of pumpkin and espresso permeates the air, Alec is content.

He’s learned to be. Izzy thinks him dreadfully dull-- who chooses to read literature by people long dead? She’s more into science, though, which is something that Alec will never understand.

Just leave him to his books, please.

He’s found a million worlds in the pages of his novels. More than that, he’s found himself. Alec knows that he’s not like everyone else. He’s not the shadowhunter ideal, hasn’t been since he first realized that not every boy daydreams about kissing other boys.

He’s not ashamed. He thinks there’s a world where he could even be proud of who he is, what he wants. It’s everyone else that fills him with seething anger and blistering cold. The Institute might as well be a frozen tundra for all the understanding and refuge it offers.

No, there’s nothing for him there. Maybe one day, when he’s not a skinny nineteen year old too anxious to go after he wants, there will be something within the hallowed halls of his home that don’t fill him with bitter emptiness.

He doubts it, though.

He turns to his book, reading over his favorite play by Shakespeare for the dozenth time. It’s one of his favorite works. He thinks he could probably recite it by now if he was feeling particularly ambitious.

Sometimes home is too much. It’s this numbing mix of too much and not enough and it leaves Alec with a constant headache, a deep wondering of whether he’s too slow or everyone else just needs to catch up. He’s always out of sync and it grates on his nerves.

Here, though. Once a week he comes to this tiny, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop a few blocks from the Institute and spends an afternoon or morning-- if he’s lucky, the whole damn day-- sitting in his chair away from everything he knows.

He does have a chair. It’s this one. In the corner by the fireplace that’s almost unbearably cozy in the fall and winter. It gives him a view of the street outside and the people indoors while still keeping him separate, a bit away.

He has a lot of practice at being just a bit apart from everyone else. He tells himself he prefers it, though he isn’t sure if that’s the case or if he’s just grown a little too used to the feeling of being alone.

He gets a drink, sometimes two, that’s more sugar than caffeine and wastes some time in his own space.

This is his. At home, everything is his mother’s or the Clave’s or it’s just that he has no fucking privacy. No one knows that he’s here, though. Not his little sister, not his parabatai. He disappears off the face of the earth once a week and he often marvels at the fact that it probably keeps him sane.

The only people that know him here are the baristas who happen to own the coffee shop. They’re an older couple and while they never push, they’ve made him feel welcome. It’s obvious that they're in love-- Alec regularly sees the two women sneaking kisses when there’s a lull in customers and it fills him with warmth.

They get to have that. Alec might not be allowed to but it’s good to see that people like him can be happy despite what Maryse Lightwood would have everyone believe.

Danielle and Margo have been together fifteen years and have owned City Coffee for ten. They know their business, Alec supposes. They never pry, just acknowledge him every week with a smile, asking, “Your regular?”

They know his name is Alec. He knows that they vacation in the Adirondacks every spring. Shadowhunters are supposed to keep a low profile, never really interact with mundanes, but Alec can’t help but think that there’s nothing bad that could happen with this. It’s his sanctuary and it would be a cruel fate if this one thing blew up in his face.

He turns back to his book, getting lost in the pages. It’s an hour later as he finishes the second act that he looks up, gets lost in his head as he watches the rush of people heading home from work.

Alec has been raised to scorn mundanes-- they’re like ants, they’re childish, they’re a necessary evil that needs protection-- but secretly Alec thinks that they may just have the better deal. They go along their own way, oblivious to the darkness that lurks around every corner and they seem happy in their blissful ignorance.

Sometimes Alec thinks that he would sell his soul for a little bit of that wondering contentedness. 

He slips into his favorite daydream, the one he only allows himself when he’s sick or falling asleep, or sometimes when the loneliness spreading through his chest threatens to suffocate him.

He thinks of a man. His man. Someone who would be there for him through good and bad and everything in between. Alec knows that he has just as many flaws as good points-- most would undoubtedly say more-- but this person would understand him. 

No, he doesn’t want a mindreader. He just wants someone who wants to take the time to see who Alec really is, who he wants to be. Alec’s felt trapped for as long as he can remember but this person-- this boy-- would free him.

Alec already has a reputation for being cold and standoffish. He’s caught the whispers, _what did you expect with Maryse Lightwood for a mother_ , but he shrugs it off. It’s no one’s business.

But he has the feeling that he’s a bigger romantic than he likes to let on. It by turns annoys and depresses him, but Alec would really like to be one half of a relationship. He’d love to wake up next to someone, sleepy and content. He wants to cook them breakfast and travel and do the thousand mundane things that people do when they’re in love.

Too bad for him that it’s just not in the cards. There’s a sinking sensation in his gut that grows just a little more pervasive every day that he won’t get to have that. His fate was decided the day he was born and given a shit deck from the start. It doesn’t take into account that he might not want to be the next Lightwood prodigy and he for damn sure doesn’t want a wife.

He’s learned to accept it. Mostly.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t imagine. He thinks of alternate dimensions and different universes and a million ways he could have his happily ever after. He tells himself that it’s childish and irresponsible but he just can’t stop.

As Alec watches the sun begin to drop behind the buildings of New York, he wonders if he’ll ever feel whole. He wonders if the rest of his life will be spent hoping to Christ that he gets two hours at City Coffee a week so he doesn’t lose his fucking mind.

He wonders, secretly and shamefully, if there might be a prince coming to save him one day after all.

 

Five years later, he brings his boyfriend to the coffee shop. He talks to Danielle and Margo, smiling, introducing Magnus. Alec orders their coffee-- two of his regular, extra whipped cream-- and guides his boyfriend to his favorite chair. He urges Magnus to sit down and so he does, watching Alec as he smiles, as his gaze turns unbearably soft.

Magnus says, "This place is rather homey isn’t it?"

Alec just smiles wider, agreeing. It’s a clash between present and future that he never could’ve foreseen no matter how desperately he dreamt.

What he doesn’t say is, _anywhere is home as long as it’s you._

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr @carmenlire :)


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